


Falconry

by DoctorMagenta



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, Hurt Erik Lehnsherr, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28192998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorMagenta/pseuds/DoctorMagenta
Summary: There was only one path Erik could go, and it was the path of War.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/En Sabah Nur
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: X-Men X-Traordinaire's Mini Holiday Fic Exchange 2020





	Falconry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InsertSthMeaningful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertSthMeaningful/gifts).



> Beta read by [FlightInFlame](/users/flightinflame/), thank you!

A god doesn’t play favourites, that’s for mortals and their low intrigues. A god just knows who is the best suited for a role and was worthy of wielding more power. Even amongst his closest lieutenants, the Horsemen, not everyone is equal in power and the role they will serve in a rising empire. A god can’t accept weaklings, but raw strength is not enough. There is also the ability not only to mindlessly follow orders, but to lead and rule in a god’s name or together with him.

Death was once that exalted one in the time before the treason. Now it appears to be War’s time. The leadership of Death ended so fittingly, with an end to their great plans, but now - in the time of the powerful weapons, with mortals worshiping their destructive technology - it is time to remind them of a true power, a true war that they could not have predicted.

War can’t be more fitting for this role. Without even knowing he was an apostle of a change, speaking about the gifted with passion and fearlessness under the astounded gaze of every person on Earth. The world rejected him and that made him break, because he didn’t have the power of his god by his side yet. He waited a decade to be put back together piece by piece and to be not only restored to previous glory, but perfected into something more. His god knows something about waiting, entombed and alone in a dark place.

But War still struggles with his past. He does not accept gentleness, if anything, he pays attention to the brute force and clear orders. War craves stability and order, and it is in a power of god to grant it bit by bit. First, it’s a freedom from the haunting memories.

“Enough.”

It’s a command. War flinches but his mind is dragged from the dark labyrinth of the past right to the late afternoon of today. He blinks his pale eyes and instantly focuses on his god, just as he should. War focuses on a hand on his arm, heat of a desert seeping through his armor like sand. There is a weight to it, a point of contact even through the layers of a foreign fabric. But what is it other than dust under a god’s hand? The palm still leaves a searing handprint on a flesh beneath. War takes a shuddering breath, fully immersed in now, in the goal of reshaping the world to its proper shape.

“Go on, my child. Bring them war.”

The weight of the hand lifts like a hood falling from a falcon’s head, and with that, War takes a flight.

War was lost. He was uncertain and confused like he forfeited his lodestone and now was left alone at a vast sea. There were days when he didn’t remember what he was doing, where and who he had been. At those moments Apocalypse was infallibly finding him again, giving him back his identity with the touch of a sleek gauntlet on his cheekbones and lips. War no longer thought of the lost past. The guiding hand always pushed him on the right path.

The hand threading his cropped short hair was bare and careful despite power thrumming in those strong fingers. It reminded War of something from the past, but also each stroke was like a sandpaper swiping through his mind, scraping all that was unnecessary, leaving only the polished metal behind, the bare bones of what War was made of. The heat of a desert inside him melted the ice and tempered the steel.

**Author's Note:**

> ...happy ending sequel anyone?


End file.
